Post by Threid on Feb 14, 2010 4:54:31 GMT -5
0077.12.31, East Asian Earth Federation Academy
"Pardon me. Excuse me. Pardon. I'm sorry. Beg your pardon." Kyle blazed a path through the throng of students with an arsenal of polite words. Normally, he could plot an efficient course through the shifting crowds, but the stack of books he was carrying decreased his maneuverability significantly.
"I'm like a crippled machine," Kyle thought, chuckling to himself. "A crippled machine trying to waltz."
One of the girls in his class - Nora, he remembered - waved him over. "Off to another of your famous Slater Study Sessions?" She grinned, gesturing at his book tower.
"Dr. Minovsky's just released some of his notes on beam weapons. Did you know that even though, theoretically, a beam saber would use Minovsky particles to generate the blade-shaped I-field and the superheated Minovsky particle plasma that fills it, it wouldn't actually use mega-particles like other beam weapons?" Kyle's face reddened immediately when he realized that a simple "yes" probably would have been okay, but Nora just laughed.
"Right... Call me when you finish the prototype. Anyway, If you can pull yourself away from your particles, a group of us from 12A are going to celebrate the New Year tonight. There will be a band, and dancing..."
At Kyle's blank look, she continued, "Food should be good too, at least compared to the cafeteria." She looked at him hopefully.
"Dancing... Blast!" Kyle cursed to himself. He usually was good at learning new things. He wasn't bad at running, and he wasn't clumsy, but when he tried to dance, he couldn't shake the thought that he probably looked just as ridiculous as he felt. Glancing at Nora, he decided that he should make an effort to attend. It was, after all, a class event, and he ought to be social. He twisted his face into a smile. "Sounds fun. See you there!"
"You too! And happy New Year!" Nora turned and practically skipped down the hallway. Kyle immediately turned his attention back to avoiding being knocked over; the librarian was not one to accept excuses for damaged books, especially ones so precious.
He steadily made his way into less-traveled corridors, further from the main complex. Kyle's quarters were far from his classes, but he didn't mind. He enjoyed the long, brisk walks. It had been a good semester. Things weren't as hard as they had been when he first arrived here. He smiled to himself, imagining what he had looked like his first day here: A country boy, through and through, asking to join one of the most prestigious Earth Federation academies, with only the clothes on his back and a few fire-blackened coins. They only let him take an admissions test after he stood outside for two hours, refusing to leave, refusing to be turned away. He hadn't scored well, but he had scored better than they had expected.
"You've got talent." The grizzled professor had said. "And spunk. We could use more like you in the Earth Federation. We start your studies tomorrow; you're in 12A. Don't be late. We'll give you a chance here, country boy." Country boy. It was a name that had stuck for his first two years here. He hated it at first, but then realized that most didn't mean anything unkind by it. He really didn't fit in at first. He had learned to walk quickly instead of running everywhere, learned new slang and a different way of speaking. He was not so free with his words as he once was. It was safer to speak a little wisely than a lot foolishly, especially when trying to fit in.
And despite all the measures he had taken, he still had a long way to go. He still couldn't pronounce certain words without drawing suppressed smiles from his classmates. He still got a little nervous in crowded areas.
"And I still can't dance city-style without looking like a broken machine!" Kyle smiled ruefully. At least he had done well in his studies. If he still stood out a little as a bumpkin, he stood out even more as a student. He'd been near the top of the class ever since he caught up to the rest of them in politics, history and life science. But he'd always been better than them in tech. He eyed the books he carried fondly. He almost feared graduation next year. It would take him away from the library, away from most of his peers and away from the daily routine of classes and studying - everything that had become familiar to him.
"But it will all be worth it," Kyle thought to himself. He knew that the best students had a chance to be chosen as pilots, and he knew he would probably be one of them. A machine - a real machine - often with the latest in tech, incorporating new designs and ideas from a multitude of fields. Each one was like a moving science convention; to actually pilot one would be heaven on earth.
"Home at last!" Kyle fumbled around in his pocket to fetch the key to his quarters. The skin-tight suits were pretty awful when it came to pockets. He managed to get inside without dropping any books, setting them carefully on his desk before sliding into his favorite reading chair. Suddenly, he remembered the invitation to dance. He immediately rose and set an alarm to rouse him from whatever study-induced trance he was likely to be in when the time for the party rolled around. He knew from past experience that he could read right through important events as easily as some students slept through classes.
A picture of his family - the only one he had - sat on his desk, in a simple glass frame. Others had suggested he digitize it, but he refused. The picture was the only thing that tied him back to his family and the farm. He guarded it closely; they were the reason he had enlisted. They were the reason he was going to be the best at whatever he set his mind to. His father had always told him to do his best, and if he couldn't be the best rice farmer, he was going to be the best student the Earth Federation had ever seen.
He remembered the rice paddy his family had tended. They didn't have all the latest harvesters and planters, but Kyle had managed to throw together some helpful gadgets from odds and ends he was given from neighbors or benevolent strangers. Everyone he met liked to see him work with the tech. Kyle couldn't remember taking something apart that he hadn't put back together again.
He grabbed a pen and started absent-mindedly doodling physics equations on a scrap of paper. It was good practice, and it helped him to think. Life had changed so quickly. They'd had fires in the rice paddy before, but these fires that persisted and spread despite the wet conditions. The family was doing their best against the encroaching flames, waiting for the tide to turn so that the damage could be assessed. Then, fields would be re-plowed, re-fertilized, and re-irrigated, and storehouses rebuilt and refilled. His father and mother were determined, strong people. He could still picture them: Their faces were always serious, and whether their words were kind or rebuking, they were always wise.
His hand tightened around his pencil. One moment, the fire was outside, and the next it surrounded them. He remembered his parents embracing him, and his father saying, "Run, Kyle." And he ran - away, though and from the fire. He ran for hours, and when he finally slowed down, he realized that his parents were not with him.
At first he was confused. He was sure his parents had been right behind him. He kept walking, and got odd jobs on the road. He had walked in the same direction he'd started running - not knowing exactly why, but sure that his parents would want him to keep going. He had been taught to be a practical boy, and there were plenty of practical tasks to perform on the farms he encountered on the way to the city.
Abruptly, the pencil tip broke, and Kyle realized he had run his writing off the paper, and was beginning to scribble on his desk. "Blast it all!" The alarm began to blare, and Kyle glanced at the clock. "Blast it all, twice! The dance!" He peeled off his school uniform, freshened up a bit, and threw on some of his nicer city clothes. On his way out, he grabbed an old hat. It wasn't in fashion, but it was one of the first things he'd bought at the academy, and it fit him well.
"One more year," he thought to himself. "A year full of Advanced Minovsky particle physics, more strategy, formations, and maneuvers, and Advanced Machine Research and Development. And dancing..." Kyle smiled to himself as he remembered the hopeful look in Nora's eyes. "I'd better do my best!"
"Pardon me. Excuse me. Pardon. I'm sorry. Beg your pardon." Kyle blazed a path through the throng of students with an arsenal of polite words. Normally, he could plot an efficient course through the shifting crowds, but the stack of books he was carrying decreased his maneuverability significantly.
"I'm like a crippled machine," Kyle thought, chuckling to himself. "A crippled machine trying to waltz."
One of the girls in his class - Nora, he remembered - waved him over. "Off to another of your famous Slater Study Sessions?" She grinned, gesturing at his book tower.
"Dr. Minovsky's just released some of his notes on beam weapons. Did you know that even though, theoretically, a beam saber would use Minovsky particles to generate the blade-shaped I-field and the superheated Minovsky particle plasma that fills it, it wouldn't actually use mega-particles like other beam weapons?" Kyle's face reddened immediately when he realized that a simple "yes" probably would have been okay, but Nora just laughed.
"Right... Call me when you finish the prototype. Anyway, If you can pull yourself away from your particles, a group of us from 12A are going to celebrate the New Year tonight. There will be a band, and dancing..."
At Kyle's blank look, she continued, "Food should be good too, at least compared to the cafeteria." She looked at him hopefully.
"Dancing... Blast!" Kyle cursed to himself. He usually was good at learning new things. He wasn't bad at running, and he wasn't clumsy, but when he tried to dance, he couldn't shake the thought that he probably looked just as ridiculous as he felt. Glancing at Nora, he decided that he should make an effort to attend. It was, after all, a class event, and he ought to be social. He twisted his face into a smile. "Sounds fun. See you there!"
"You too! And happy New Year!" Nora turned and practically skipped down the hallway. Kyle immediately turned his attention back to avoiding being knocked over; the librarian was not one to accept excuses for damaged books, especially ones so precious.
He steadily made his way into less-traveled corridors, further from the main complex. Kyle's quarters were far from his classes, but he didn't mind. He enjoyed the long, brisk walks. It had been a good semester. Things weren't as hard as they had been when he first arrived here. He smiled to himself, imagining what he had looked like his first day here: A country boy, through and through, asking to join one of the most prestigious Earth Federation academies, with only the clothes on his back and a few fire-blackened coins. They only let him take an admissions test after he stood outside for two hours, refusing to leave, refusing to be turned away. He hadn't scored well, but he had scored better than they had expected.
"You've got talent." The grizzled professor had said. "And spunk. We could use more like you in the Earth Federation. We start your studies tomorrow; you're in 12A. Don't be late. We'll give you a chance here, country boy." Country boy. It was a name that had stuck for his first two years here. He hated it at first, but then realized that most didn't mean anything unkind by it. He really didn't fit in at first. He had learned to walk quickly instead of running everywhere, learned new slang and a different way of speaking. He was not so free with his words as he once was. It was safer to speak a little wisely than a lot foolishly, especially when trying to fit in.
And despite all the measures he had taken, he still had a long way to go. He still couldn't pronounce certain words without drawing suppressed smiles from his classmates. He still got a little nervous in crowded areas.
"And I still can't dance city-style without looking like a broken machine!" Kyle smiled ruefully. At least he had done well in his studies. If he still stood out a little as a bumpkin, he stood out even more as a student. He'd been near the top of the class ever since he caught up to the rest of them in politics, history and life science. But he'd always been better than them in tech. He eyed the books he carried fondly. He almost feared graduation next year. It would take him away from the library, away from most of his peers and away from the daily routine of classes and studying - everything that had become familiar to him.
"But it will all be worth it," Kyle thought to himself. He knew that the best students had a chance to be chosen as pilots, and he knew he would probably be one of them. A machine - a real machine - often with the latest in tech, incorporating new designs and ideas from a multitude of fields. Each one was like a moving science convention; to actually pilot one would be heaven on earth.
"Home at last!" Kyle fumbled around in his pocket to fetch the key to his quarters. The skin-tight suits were pretty awful when it came to pockets. He managed to get inside without dropping any books, setting them carefully on his desk before sliding into his favorite reading chair. Suddenly, he remembered the invitation to dance. He immediately rose and set an alarm to rouse him from whatever study-induced trance he was likely to be in when the time for the party rolled around. He knew from past experience that he could read right through important events as easily as some students slept through classes.
A picture of his family - the only one he had - sat on his desk, in a simple glass frame. Others had suggested he digitize it, but he refused. The picture was the only thing that tied him back to his family and the farm. He guarded it closely; they were the reason he had enlisted. They were the reason he was going to be the best at whatever he set his mind to. His father had always told him to do his best, and if he couldn't be the best rice farmer, he was going to be the best student the Earth Federation had ever seen.
He remembered the rice paddy his family had tended. They didn't have all the latest harvesters and planters, but Kyle had managed to throw together some helpful gadgets from odds and ends he was given from neighbors or benevolent strangers. Everyone he met liked to see him work with the tech. Kyle couldn't remember taking something apart that he hadn't put back together again.
He grabbed a pen and started absent-mindedly doodling physics equations on a scrap of paper. It was good practice, and it helped him to think. Life had changed so quickly. They'd had fires in the rice paddy before, but these fires that persisted and spread despite the wet conditions. The family was doing their best against the encroaching flames, waiting for the tide to turn so that the damage could be assessed. Then, fields would be re-plowed, re-fertilized, and re-irrigated, and storehouses rebuilt and refilled. His father and mother were determined, strong people. He could still picture them: Their faces were always serious, and whether their words were kind or rebuking, they were always wise.
His hand tightened around his pencil. One moment, the fire was outside, and the next it surrounded them. He remembered his parents embracing him, and his father saying, "Run, Kyle." And he ran - away, though and from the fire. He ran for hours, and when he finally slowed down, he realized that his parents were not with him.
At first he was confused. He was sure his parents had been right behind him. He kept walking, and got odd jobs on the road. He had walked in the same direction he'd started running - not knowing exactly why, but sure that his parents would want him to keep going. He had been taught to be a practical boy, and there were plenty of practical tasks to perform on the farms he encountered on the way to the city.
Abruptly, the pencil tip broke, and Kyle realized he had run his writing off the paper, and was beginning to scribble on his desk. "Blast it all!" The alarm began to blare, and Kyle glanced at the clock. "Blast it all, twice! The dance!" He peeled off his school uniform, freshened up a bit, and threw on some of his nicer city clothes. On his way out, he grabbed an old hat. It wasn't in fashion, but it was one of the first things he'd bought at the academy, and it fit him well.
"One more year," he thought to himself. "A year full of Advanced Minovsky particle physics, more strategy, formations, and maneuvers, and Advanced Machine Research and Development. And dancing..." Kyle smiled to himself as he remembered the hopeful look in Nora's eyes. "I'd better do my best!"